


keep my heart slow

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cities and shows pass in a blur. Half the time Harry barely knows where they’re pulling into before they get there but he tries to think of something about each place to text Nick about, something to keep Nick involved in his life even when he’s away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep my heart slow

**Author's Note:**

> so I've wanted to write an angsty harry/nick tourfic with a happy ending from the very first time I heard I Will Wait months ago but I never knew what the angst actually WAS. then last week I was out drinking w mediaville and, well, ANGST ABOUNDED. happy ending though, I promise.
> 
> warning for off camera nick/omc. also this wound up being as much of a fic about harry and louis being bff as it did about harry and nick's relationship. idek.
> 
> thanks to mediaville for the beta and sali_mali for the britpick! any remaining mistakes are all mine.
> 
> title from I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons

*

 

The morning after his birthday Harry wakes to six increasingly frantic text messages from Liam telling him he’s late for rehearsals. He rolls onto his back and kicks the covers off his legs. 

“Uggggggh,” Harry digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to will his brains to stay _inside_ his head, thanks so much. “God, how much did we _drink_ last night?”

Nick grunts from next to him and flails around until he’s patting Harry’s chest and face and finally he sinks his fingers deep into Harry’s hair. Harry smiles a little and rolls closer, soaking up the warmth Nick left when he budged over onto his side. “Quite a bit, Harold,” Nick’s voice is thick and raspy. Harry closes his eyes and starts to doze off to the feeling of Nick scratching his head when his mobile buzzes again two more times in a row. 

“Fucking Liam,” Harry mutters. 

Nick laughs. “It’s the price you pay for being a famous popstar,” Nick gives Harry’s head a little shove and kicks at Harry’s leg with his foot. Harry knows he needs to get up, he just doesn’t want to. “And it’s not like this is news, you knew you had rehearsals when we decided to rid the bar of their tequila supply.”

“You should have stopped me,” Harry whimpers. “ _Somebody_ should have stopped me.”

The mobile buzzes again and Harry wonders just how long he can ignore Liam’s ringtone before he actually gives up and sends someone over to Nick’s to get him. Harry lifts his head and glances at the clock and shit. “It’s so late; the lads are going to kill me.”

“Hmm,” Nick rolls back so he’s facing Harry and bites playfully at Harry’s chest. “And you’re smelling a bit rank too, love,” Nick wrinkles his nose and nips at Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s breath catches hard in his chest; if he didn’t want to get up before he sure as hell doesn’t want to get up now. “Might want to hop in for a fast shower before you go prancing around a stage all day, yeah?”

“Fuck that,” Harry wishes his voice were steadier, that the feel of Nick’s teeth against his skin weren’t enough to get Harry so close to the edge so quickly, but even more than that Harry wishes he had time. Last night was great, amazing, everything Harry really ever could have wanted from a birthday but having to get up now and rush out is really killing it for him. He tilts his head down and kisses Nick quickly on the mouth. He’s not even sure if he’s supposed to do that but really, screw it, it’s his birthday.

Nick’s eyes are dark. Harry watches when he bites his lip and looks down at Harry’s mouth for a long moment before rolling onto his back and shoving the sheets and duvet away to get out of bed. Harry breathes out, his hands shaking a little when he rubs them over his face. 

“So you’ve got that thing with Finchy later, yeah?” 

“Yeah, around half four.”

“Ok, so…” Harry’s mobile buzzes again and he yanks it from the pocket of his jeans and types out a quick _leaving grimmy’s now give me ten minutes_ before tossing it next to him on the bed. “I’ve got my mum’s tonight and then tomorrow you’re out too, right?”

“Yeah,” Nick’s wandering around the room grabbing a pair of jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt and getting dressed quickly. Harry’s sniffs his jeans from the night before and decides they’re passable and nicks one of Nick’s jumpers from the laundry pile. He leaves the rest of his clothes in Nick’s laundry bin and figures he’ll pick them up when he sees Nick during the week. 

By the time Harry’s got his jacket on and a beanie shoved over his hair Nick’s in the kitchen fussing with the coffee maker. “You want to wait ‘til it’s ready? I’ll give you a cup to take with you.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Think I’d better not. I’ll just grab something at rehearsals. I think the lads are pissed enough that I’m so late, better to not show up with fresh coffee and get them even angrier.”

Nick laughs and Harry smiles easily. He’d been worried for a split second that things would be weird this morning. The party was loud and late and crazy and Harry’s not positive but he has a few flashes of drunken recollection of telling Nick how much he loves him and how he’s Harry’s best mate ever _ever_ and how thankful Harry was for the party and the dinner Nick had given him and yeah, Harry remembers saying a lot of things to Nick in a lot of different ways. 

He shouldn’t have worried though. Nick is just as normal and easy with Harry this morning as he is any other morning Harry wakes up hungover in his flat. 

“All right then, ring me later, yeah?” Nick finishes fussing with the coffee and Harry really _really_ needs to leave. There’s no reason for him to be hovering, Liam’s going to have his head on a platter if he get there much later than he is already. 

“Yeah, I’ll ring you when rehearsals are done,” Harry gives Nick a quick hug and Nick hugs him back, arms tight around Harry’s waist. 

“Go away,” Nick laughs. “Get out so I can go back to sleep.”

Harry rolls his eyes but he goes, waving to Nick one last time as he walks out the door.

*

Harry’s busy, he’s just so _fucking_ busy in the week and a half after his birthday he barely knows what to do with himself when he manages to get any time off. Between constant rehearsals for the tour and promotion and photo shoots he’s barely got a second to breathe, let alone do anything socially like go out for a drink or to a pub or out to dinner. 

He grabs lunch one day with Niall and meets up with Pixie and Aimee for drinks one night long after Nick’s gone to bed to wake up early the next day for the radio show. He manages to squeeze one lunch date in with Nick - they go to the sushi place they like and then shopping for a little bit after - but eventually Harry realizes he hasn’t spoken to Nick in three, maybe four days and that’s just odd. Not that they’re attached at the hip or anything but whenever Harry’s in town the two of them manage to spend a little more time together then they have been. Especially with the tour looming so close it’s weird that Harry’s not heard from Nick for days. 

He rings Nick a few times, but each one goes right to voicemail. Harry’s got a free afternoon and Nick’s never minded when he’s popped by before so he goes to the café and grabs a tea for himself and a coffee and a few of the fruity pastries Nick likes and heads over to his flat. He knocks a few times at the door because he knows Nick’s home, his car is right there in front of the flat, but when Nick doesn’t answer Harry figures he’s napping after the show and lets himself in with his key. 

Harry walks through the living room quietly so he doesn’t wake Nick if he’s sleeping and is shocked still when he glances in the kitchen and finds Nick standing there, wide awake and standing at the sink. 

“Oh, hey,” Harry puts the drinks and pastries down on the kitchen table and smiles easily. “I thought maybe you were napping.”

“What? Oh, no, right, no, sorry, not now.” Nick fiddles with a tea towel between his fingers. “Did you…” he clears his throat and smiles tightly. “Did you need something?”

“Noooo,” Harry cocks his head to the side. Nick is acting weird. “Did you not get my calls before? I was wondering if you wanted to go out for something to eat.”

“Yeah, no, I saw them,” Nick says. Harry waits for him to go on but he doesn’t, just stands there looking at Harry strangely and not quite meeting his eyes. “Just didn’t get a chance to call, sorry.”

Harry shrugs. “Eh, no biggee.” He wanders around the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and sticking his head into Nick’s fridge. Nick’s got grapes, which is awesome. Harry is starving. “So hey, you want to go get dinner tonight or something?” Harry pulls his head out and pops a handful of grapes in his mouth. Nick is watching him strangely and Harry can’t figure out why. He doesn’t know what makes him glance up at the calendar magnet Nick’s got stuck to his fridge but when he does his eyes widen and his heart thumps quickly in his chest. 

It’s _Valentine’s Day_ , God, how could Harry not have realized it. Not that he and Nick are dating or anything but…they are whatever they are and after Harry’s birthday, well, maybe Harry should be asking Nick to go out tonight or something. Harry’s not really that good at any of this; for as much as people seem to think he’s got all this experience he’s pretty much nothing but awkward with too many feelings that he doesn’t know what to do with most of the time. Harry wishes he were as cool as people thought; his life would be a lot easier if he was. 

Nick clears his throat and looks away. “Yeah, maybe,” Nick says quietly. “I have to check on a few things but I might be able to do something.” He looks back at Harry and smiles and Harry grins back easily. “I’m going to rest now for a bit, yeah? But I’ll call you later, we’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah, all right.” Harry shakes his hair and pushes his off his forehead. Nick seems to want to be by himself for whatever reason but Harry is fine with that. Maybe he’ll go home and take a nap himself. Maybe tonight is going to be a long night. “Call me later and let me know what’s going on,” Harry says. “And eat the pastries; they were fresh from the oven.” Harry grabs the bag and shoves it into Nick’s hands. 

Nick smiles, wide and sweet and a little sad almost. “Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry shrugs and kisses Nick quickly on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”

*

When Harry wakes up it’s nighttime; he can tell by the glow of the streetlight streaming in through his bedroom windows. He’s disoriented, confused as to why he feels like he’s forgetting about something. He knows he meant to only lie down for a little while but this seems like he’s been asleep longer, his body tired and limbs heavy with sleep. Harry knuckles his eyes and yawns, blinking slowly into the darkness.

His mobile buzzes on his nightstand and Harry instantly remembers he’d been meant to have plans for the night and _shit_. Nick. He totally had plans with Nick and he’s probably been calling Harry trying to tell him where to meet up and Harry’s been sleeping and it’s…Harry glances at the clock and cringes. It’s past freaking _midnight_ and this is bad. Crap. His mobile buzzes again on the nightstand. 

Harry scrubs a hand through his hair and fumbles with the mobile. He’s full on ready to apologize, god, he’s the world’s shittiest person ever, and he thumbs it on ready to start telling Nick how sorry he is and figuring out where to meet him to try and salvage his night which is why he’s kind of surprised when all the missed calls and texts are from the lads; a few from Liam, one each from Niall and Zayn and a bunch from Louis but none from Nick. 

It’s just…it’s _strange_. Why wouldn’t Nick have called to tell Harry where to meet him tonight? Harry clicks open the most recent text from Louis and it’s just a link to some random gossip site. Harry doesn’t click it because he has no idea why Louis is sending it so he reads back, his chest going tighter and heart pounding harder the more he reads. 

_Hey Haz did you know about this?_

_Looks like grimmy’s got himself a boyfriend._

_He’s right fit, I’ll shoot you a picture_

Harry’s hand is shaking when he clicks the link. This is stupid. He tells himself it’s all some kind of misunderstanding; Nick doesn’t have a _boyfriend_ , Harry would know. The picture takes a minute to load, the bars filling in slowly from the top down, the damn connection wheel spinning and spinning until the picture flashes in completely, filling the screen and sending Harry’s stomach plummeting straight down to his toes. 

Louis is right about one thing, the lad is definitely fit. 

He’s a bit taller than Nick, and broader in the shoulders. His hair is either blonde or light brown, Harry can’t tell from the picture, and he’s dressed up in a nice shirt and blazer, his hand tucked firmly in Nick’s. 

Nick looks happy too, is the thing. He’s smiling, open and wide and easy. Harry wants to look away, is desperate to have not seen this, to go back to when he was sleeping and get a do over for the last ten minutes, but his fingers are clicking link after link because wherever Nick is with this bloke he’s not being shy about it at all. 

There are pictures of them walking outside, Nick holding his hand tightly. There’s another picture of Nick and the guy with their heads bent close together, Nick’s eyes crinkled in laughter. Harry can almost hear it, the bright, sharp way Nick laughs when something strikes him especially funny. Harry keeps clicking, he can’t seem to stop and the next thing he knows there’s a picture of Nick and this guy _snogging_ right there in the middle of the street. Nick’s hands are in his hair and the guy is holding onto Nick’s waist and it looks so private, so intimate Harry wants desperately to look away. 

He just, how did he not know about this? How did Nick not _tell_ him?

Harry’s hands are shaking and his chest feels tight and achy. He feels sick, like he could throw up at any minute which is stupid; he’s acting like a twat. His mobile buzzes again and it’s Louis because of course it is, Nick is apparently _busy_.

_you all right haz? I haven’t heard from you, just making sure things are ok_

_yeah, things are fine, thanks lou_ Harry sends back and then he turns his phone off and rolls over desperately wishing that either Nick would call and tell Harry what’s going on or he could fall asleep and forget everything he’s just seen. He lies in bed, staring at the patterns the streetlights make against his walls, watching the dip and sway of cars passing outside his window until he restlessly falls back to sleep.

*

Harry wakes in the morning, his body sore and eyes itchy and tired as if he hasn’t slept in ages. He figures that’s probably true; after he woke up from Louis’ texts he managed to fall back asleep but was plagued by images all night of Nick with his new beau, the pictures he’d looked at for no more than a split second burned into the back of his eyelids, flashing bright every time he tried to fall back asleep.

Nick doesn’t call Harry in the morning but Harry didn’t expect him to. Nick’s got the show and a lot of the time he goes home after and takes a nap. He usually calls Harry by mid-afternoon but Harry’s not in the mood to sit around and wait for him today. He texts Louis instead, _want to grab some lunch?_ and tidies up his flat while waiting for Louis to text him back. 

He makes his bed and puts a few shirts away into his bureau. The bathroom and kitchen are mostly clean so instead he makes a cup of tea, leaning with both hands braced against the counter and staring at the kettle willing the water to boil faster. He texts Nick then because he can’t seem to stop himself, just a quick, _hey, just seeing how you’re doing this morningxxx_ and then busies himself with getting out a cup and teabag and pretending he’s not noticing how Nick’s not calling him back.

When his mobile buzzes Harry knows it’s going to be Louis answering him from earlier but can’t help the tiny lick if disappointment that curls through him when he sees Louis’s name flash across the screen.

_I’ve got plans with Niall but you’re welcome to come with if you’d like : )_

Harry doesn’t let himself think about it for too long, and anyway, maybe seeing Niall will help. Niall was at Harry’s party too; maybe he’ll have noticed or remembered something that would have clued Harry into the fact that Nick apparently had some random boyfriend waiting in the wings for who knows how long.

_that’s great tell me where and when and I’ll see you there xxx_

*

They meet at the pub at half one and by the time Harry gets there Louis and Niall are already at a table with a plate of chips and a pint in front of each of them. There’s a third pint waiting for Harry and he grins appreciatively before taking off his jacket and sprawling out into the seat. 

“Hey, Harry, you all right?” Niall smiles around his drink and Harry raises his glass and nods. 

“Yeah, cheers.” Harry can feel Louis watching him, eyes narrowed and arms folded tightly over his chest. Harry shakes his head a little and Louis sighs and looks away. Harry knows that look, Louis is dying to lay into Harry about something, ask him a hundred questions about Nick and Harry and what happened last night but Harry doesn’t have the answers and doesn’t really know where to start and try and figure it out. 

Niall though has no such problems asking. 

“Hey, Haz, did you see Nick getting papped with that footie player last night? It’s so weird, I didn’t even know he was shagging anyone, did you?” Niall actually sounds curious and Louis groans quietly and drops his head into the palm of his hand. 

“Christ, Niall, can you possibly be any worse at this?”

“He’s a footie player?” Harry asks, because Jesus fuck, why wouldn’t he be. Harry didn’t really pay attention the night before to see if the bloke was anyone worth knowing but it makes sense Nick would pull someone fit and famous. Nick’s amazing, there’s no reason why he wouldn’t. Harry takes a long pull of his pint and glances over at the queue at the bar to see how long it’ll take to get a refill.

“And a model too or summat,” Niall wrinkles his brow. “I could swear I’ve seen him in some kind of fancy underwear ad. You know, like David Beckham. Famous footie player decides to take his trousers off and make a million pounds getting his bits photographed in all sorts of designer pants.”

Harry drops his head onto the table and bangs it a few times. Just like David Beckham, of course he is. Harry feels Louis reach over and scratch through the back of his hair and my god, Niall is still _talking_.

“It’s just so _strange_ ,” he says, sounding actually confused. “After the way the two of you were acting at your birthday party I’d have _sworn_ it would have been you lads out getting papped on Valentine’s Day, you know? I mean he threw you those sick parties and was all up in your space all night long and then when we all went back to his flat for drinks and you two disappeared I just thought—“

“Oh my god, enough!” Louis reaches over and covers Niall’s mouth with his hand. Harry flops back into his seat and lets his arms hang loose at his sides. He hasn’t even spoken to Nick and he already feels like he wants to give up. If it even looks like a lost cause to Niall things can’t be good. “Harry, have you actually spoken to Nick about anything?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I didn’t hear from him last night. I texted him earlier but haven’t heard back yet.”

“Harry…” Louis narrows his eyes and Harry knows he’s right, he should call Nick and actually talk to him, ask him what’s actually going on. It does no one any good to sit around moping when he could have answers and who knows? Maybe the pictures didn’t mean anything, Harry knows more than anyone how pictures can be made to look like something they’re not, so maybe that’s what happened.

But if they do mean something...Harry’s not sure he’s ready to deal with that yet and everything it means. He’s not sure he’s able to part so soon with the idea that it’s all just some kind of misunderstanding.

He mobile finally buzzes with a text, though, and when Harry checks he’s sees it’s from Nick.

_hey harry you all right?_

Harry sighs and fiddles with the mobile. He bites his lip and scoops the hair back from his face. “You have to call him, Haz,” Louis says and Harry nods and presses the call button.

Nick answers right away, which is good. If he let it go to voicemail after texting him Harry would have had a small breakdown but this is fine. It’s Nick and they’re talking and there’s no reason for it to turn into anything bigger than that. Harry’s sure there’s a completely reasonable explanation for the pictures from last night; all he has to do is ask.

“Hi, Nick,” Harry bites his lip. Niall is texting someone and Louis is trying hard not to look like he’s eavesdropping. Harry ducks his head and lowers his voice, “You all right?”

“I’m great, yeah,” Nick’s voice is casual and flippant and Harry thinks that maybe he is making too big of a deal about everything; maybe the pictures really don’t mean anything at all.

“So I didn’t hear from you last night.” Harry hears Nick grunt a little but keeps going. “Sorry, I went to lie down and fell asleep for a while; didn’t wake up until after midnight.”

“That’s all right; I was a little tied up anyway,” Nick says and Harry closes his eyes. He can hear the sounds of the bar all around him, the clink of glasses, the chatter of the people at other tables, but it’s as if everything goes quiet when Nick clears his throat, the rasp in his voice when he says, “I was out on a date, actually.”

“Oh,” Harry can hear his voice crack and from the corner of his eye he can see Louis look over at him, blue eyes pierced and narrow. “Yeah, I did see something like that online, actually.”

“Oh, you saw the pictures?” Nick’s voice is light. He sounds like he’s even laughing a little when he adds, “I was pretty impressed; there are definitely a few good ones. It was one of my better hair nights for sure.”

“For sure,” Harry forces himself to pretend to be happy for Nick when everything about him wants to curl up in a ball and cry. He just – he has no idea how he _missed_ this. “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone, though. It’s a bit odd you never mentioned it.”

Nick laughs quietly, “I don’t tell you everything, love, yeah?” and something about it is so dismissive it makes Harry feel small and insignificant, something he’s never felt around Nick before. “I’ve been seeing David for a while actually, just decided to take it public last night. Valentine’s Day and all, you know how I love a good romantic gesture.”

“Oh, um, David?” Harry stumbles over his words, his throat achy and tight. “I’m – I’m really happy for you, Grimmy. I hope he’s great. Am I going to get to meet him?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Aren’t you leaving for tour soon?” 

And Harry is; if anything this is the best time for something like this to happen. “Yeah, we leave in about a week for some local shows,” Harry leans back and rubs his hand over his eyes. Niall’s off his mobile now and he and Louis have their heads bent together, whispering quietly. “I’ll give you a call later though; maybe we can meet up for dinner or something. And bring David, all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do, Harry,” Nick says lightly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Harry’s quiet for a minute after Nick rings off, and then he shoves his mobile into his pocket. Niall and Louis look up at him, and Louis reaches out, grabs onto Harry’s knee and squeezes. 

“His name is David,” Harry says, and that’s all. There’s really nothing else to say.

*

The worst part is Harry never really thought he had a time limit or anything. He didn’t expect the way he and Nick were going to just expire, had never anticipated being too late. They were friends and maybe one time they were more but Harry wanted it all, he wanted the label and the relationship and all the trimmings. Maybe that’s what did it, though. Maybe Nick could tell but that’s not what he wanted from Harry so that’s why he backed off. Maybe that’s where _David_ came in.

They’re at an interview, the five of them, and Harry is sat on the sofa next to Louis with Liam on his other side. He feels like a child, like he’s being sat between his two dads to make sure he doesn’t mouth off at anyone, but the pressure of Louis fingers against his back, the touch of Liam’s hand against his has Harry realizing they’re anything but. They’re looking out for him and Harry loves them so much he can’t think straight. 

“So you lads are off for your first date of the tour tomorrow then,” the broadcaster says. She’s young and pretty and has been smiling at Harry the entire time they’ve been in the studio. All Harry can think about is Nick and how he’s not seen him since Valentine’s Day – since before he knew about David – and how strange that is. He nods along with whatever Zayn is saying and then Liam and it’s not until Louis’s hand tightens at the curve of his waist that Harry realizes the interview has shifted in his direction, Nick’s name ringing out and cutting through the fog in his brain. 

“I’m sorry?” Harry shakes his head and pastes on his best smile. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“That’s all right,” the broadcaster smiles wickedly and raises an eyebrow. “I was just saying that I know you and Nick Grimshaw are close, and now he’s dating David Brent. Have you gotten to meet him yet? Is he as charming as he seems?” 

Harry feels his face go hot. It’s not the first time he’s been asked about Nick in an interview but it’s the first time in a while and it’s not about Nick, really, it’s about Nick and his boyfriend and Harry has no idea what to say. “Um.”

“That’s a stupid question,” Louis snaps. Harry whips his head to look at him and Louis’ jaw is tight, his teeth clenched. “This interview isn’t about Nick bloody Grimshaw; you’re going to want to edit that part right out.”

“Oh, um, all right,” the broadcaster fumbles, waving her hand around for the taping to stop. Harry closes his eyes and leans a little into Louis’s side and Louis pats him gently, his hand warm and sure and steady on Harry’s back.

*

The first leg of the tour is a more local than the second half but Harry still feels strange leaving for any period of time without seeing Nick before he goes. He’s been trying to pin Nick down for days but there’s always something in the way, something one of them needs to do instead and they can’t seem to make it work.

Harry gives up and goes to Nick’s flat. He’s half convinced himself he’s going to have to deal with meeting and hanging out with David when he’s there and he’s fine with it. Seeing Nick and having to meet his new boyfriend at the same time is better than not seeing Nick as all, Harry figures, so he’s more than a little disappointed when Aimee opens the door and Nick’s nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, love, you all right?” Aimee grabs Harry in a quick hug and pulls him into the flat. There’s music playing low and the telly flickering from the living room, the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Harry sniffs the air appreciatively and smiles at Aimee as best he can. “Chocolate cake?”

“Bloody Pixie told the new bloke she’s dating that she make an _amazing_ German chocolate tart and then spent the next three days searching the internet and printing out recipes for me to try for her. They’re all terrible though and Thurston’s going crazy because he can’t eat any of it and it’s just a right mess,” Aimee rolls her eyes and laughs as she pulls open the oven door and peers inside. She pokes the tart with the tip of a knife and frowns. “At least Grimmy’s had loads of snacks to bring in for Finchy in the mornings.”

“Yeah,” Harry leans his hip against the counter. “At least there’s that.”

Aimee closes the over door and turns around smiling at Harry gently. Harry wants to ask her a hundred questions at once: where Nick is and how he is and what David is like. He wants to know where Nick met him and how long he’s been around and if Aimee was as surprised to hear about him as Harry was. He wants to ask Aimee if Harry’s been crazy the whole time thinking that what he and Nick had was something special, that he was so completely off base in thinking that what he and Nick had could have possibly turned into more. 

He can’t ask her those things, because Aimee is Nick’s friend first, and Harry’s not going to put her in that situation. Plus, if Harry thinks about it, he really wants those answers from Nick, not Aimee, even though it’s seeming more and more impossible lately that that’s ever going to happen.

“Grimmy’s out for the night?” Harry asks instead. Aimee purses her lips and looks down. She chips at the bright yellow polish on one of her nails and nods and that’s answer enough. “I haven’t seen him in a while,” Harry says instead. “Leaving tomorrow for the start of tour and I just, I don’t know. I wanted to see him, say goodbye and all.”

“Makes sense,” Aimee finally looks up. Her eyes are wide and sad. “I know he’ll be sorry he missed you, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry pushes away from the wall and shakes his hair out. He’s not really sure about that himself. “Maybe.”

“If you want I could ring him? See when he’s thinking of heading back?” Aimee gestures to her mobile on the counter and Harry shakes his head. If Nick is out he’s out; Harry’s not going to bother him in the middle just to say goodbye.

“No, that’s fine, I’ve got packing left to do anyway,” Harry tells her. He gives her a quick hug and tells himself he’s not going to ask, that he almost doesn’t want to know, but before he can stop himself he whispers, “Is he happy, at least? With David, I mean.”

Aimee hugs Harry tight, her arms wrapped like a vice around his waist. When she pulls away her eyes are damp. She touches the corner of her eye with a fingertip and sniffs. “I think being with David is what he needs right now so being with him makes him happy, yes,” she says. Harry nods. That was all he really needed to know. 

“Well good then. You’ll tell him I stopped over and that I’ll call him from the road, yeah?”

“I will, Harry,” Aimee gives him one last hug and kisses his cheek. “You be careful and have fun out there.”

Harry tells her he will and gives her one last wave as he leaves.

*

Harry’s waiting for the car to pick him up for the airport and he turns on Nick’s show to listen to him for a few minutes before he has to leave. He tunes in just as Nick and Fincham are joking around about something and when Nick laughs Harry misses him so much his chest aches. 

“So I saw some new pictures online this morning,” Matt jokes. Harry hears Nick laugh in the background, breathless and embarrassed sounding. “Of you and your better half.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. This just – this really sucks.

“Yep, yep, we were most definitely out and about last night,” Nick adds. 

“And your man, David, yeah?” Matt says. “He looked quite _dashing_ I have to say.”

“Well he is a model, Finchy,” Nick quips. “It’s sort of his job to be beautiful.”

“Sure, sure,” Matt says around a laugh. “Anyway, I thought we’d start a game today on the breakfast show, all right?”

“All right,” Nick answers. “And what’s this game called?”

“It’s called: How Fit Is Grimmy’s New Boyfriend, and the way you play is—“

Harry clicks the button to turn the show off. The car comes five minutes later and when the lads ask why he’s so quiet he claims he’s got a headache and puts his head down on Louis’s shoulder. 

*

The first few shows of the tour are as shaky as they always are, but by the time they’re traveling to Ireland they’ve finally hit their stride and completely smash it their first night at the O2 in Dublin. 

Harry’s feeling great. He thinks that maybe he needed some space from Nick also to stop thinking about everything. He still sees pictures, sure, but seeing a photo in the Sun of Nick and David eating breakfast at Harry’s favorite café doesn’t bother him as much when he gets to sing and dance on stage in front of thousands of people who are screaming for him and his four best mates. 

(And ok, fine, maybe he did stare at the picture a little longer than necessary because honestly, did Nick have to bring David _there_? To the one place in all of London that makes chocolate tarts exactly the way Harry likes and Nick knows that, he brings one home for Harry every time he stops there? It’s not exactly fair, Harry thinks, and then he’s frowning so much that Louis has to physically walk over the yank the paper from his hands, shoving it deep into the bin and dragging Harry to the hotel bar where they get plastered on vodka and sodas.)

Pictures of Nick and David are _everywhere_ though. Harry feels like he can’t move sometimes without being hit in the face from the papers or the internet or the telly with pictures of Nick and David wandering around holding hands and looking like the two most in love blokes Harry’s ever seen. It makes Harry’s heart hurt and as soon as one of them notice all of a sudden Harry will have one of the lads in his face telling him how much more fit Harry is than David (which he’s not) or how miserable Nick looks (which he doesn’t) and how much none of it really matters (which it really, really does.)

“I think he’s horrid looking,” Louis declares one night before clicking the browser closed on Harry’s laptop and snapping the lid shut. 

“Who, David?” Harry shoves his laptop over onto the bed and stretches out. They’d played another amazing show but instead of going out with the others Harry felt like coming back to the hotel and resting. He should have known Louis would follow. Louis has been like an overprotective bear since this whole thing with Nick started. 

Louis rolls his eyes now and climbs on the bed next to Harry. “Yes, David. He’s so abysmal he’d be _lucky_ to be considered horrid. Horrid would be an actual improvement.”

Harry chuckles and stretches out. He’s changed into a pair of jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt that he’s fairly certain is Nick’s, not that he’s going to tell Louis that. Louis takes Harry’s stretching as an invitation and curls in next to him, pulling Harry’s head down against his shoulder. “I think he’s really fit,” Harry says quietly. “David, that is.”

“SSh, don’t even,” Louis smacks Harry on the head and Harry giggles. “You, Haz, are a billion times fitter than that quiffed and quioffed, spit-shined arse-faced footie player turned model or whatever he is.”

“Spit-shined arse-faced footie player?” Harry rolls his eyes and plays with the hem of his t-shirt. “He’s not that bad.”

“He is.”

“He’s _not_.” Harry has no idea why he’s defending Nick’s boyfriend to Louis. Possibly he’s got brain damage.

“He’s even _worse_ than I said,” Louis insists.

“Lou,” Harry laughs. “He’s fit and famous and gorgeous. Seriously. You’re insane.”

“Eh,” Louis shrugs, his shoulder jostling Harry’s head against his chest. “I don’t know. I mean, I _guess_ he’s all right if you like that sort of thing.”

“Right,” Harry snorts.

“He’s got a nice bum from what I’ve seen, at least.”

“You’ve checked out Nick’s boyfriend’s bum?” Harry pushes up so he can stare at Louis. “Seriously?”

“Well I had to so I could properly judge what he’d missed his chance on, didn’t I? And I have to say, Harold, when it comes to bums yours is definitely sub-par.” Louis lips are quirked in a grin and his eyes are sparkling. Harry feels laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Really,” Harry drones. “Anything else?”

“Um, well you’ve always known that I think your hair is stupid.”

“Of course,” Harry nods. 

Louis squints. “And your chin kind of looks like a penis.”

Harry barks out a laugh and covers his mouth. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know, maybe. My god, Haz,” Louis lets his mouth drop open. “Now that you mention it, you’re right, that bloke is _way_ fitter than you are.”

“Oh my god, piss _off_ , Louis!” Harry throws himself on top of Louis on the bed and they roll around punching and pinching and poking each other until Harry is breathless and laughing, Louis curled next to him with his arm around Harry’s back. Harry leans his head into Louis’s shoulder and lets his laughter die down and when they’re quiet enough he turns his head and playfully kisses Louis’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry says quietly.

Louis curls his arm and pulls Harry closer. “Anytime.”

*

The tour goes on. 

They make it through the rest of the European dates and they they’re flying over to America and it’s the most amazing thing that’s happened to Harry so far in his life. Being able to headline their own world tour is massive; Harry is amazed every city they pull into the amount of people and the size of the venues they’ve sold out. 

Harry and Nick talk all the time. It took a little while but the farther away Harry got the more Nick seemed to call him until they were almost back to their normal selves, sending random texts and jokes and music to each other at all hours of the night. Nick never mentions David and Harry never asks but he knows they’re still together; Harry’s got eyes and pictures of the two of them aren’t hard to come by if you know where to look.

Cities and shows pass in a blur. Half the time Harry barely knows where they’re pulling into before they get there but he tries to think of something about each place to text Nick about, something to keep Nick involved in his life even when he’s away.

 _miami is hot_ , Harry sends right after the plane touches ground after Mexico.

 _bring me back a bushel of oranges_ , Nick shoots back and Harry grins.

_nashville has really good food, niall is ready to die_

_eat some bbq for me_

_dc is crowded there must be a billion people here_

_and yet none as pretty as you, Harold I’m sure_

_haha piss off grimmyxxx_

It continues like that, on and on between the two of them, little pieces of Harry’s life that he sends to Nick, trying to make tiny letters on a screen from thousands of miles away say everything Harry is thinking but refuses to type out. He hopes that Nick realizes when Harry says that the morning air is cold in Seattle that Nick knows Harry means he wishes he had Nick’s huge grey jumper to curl into. He hopes that Nick knows when Harry says it’s impossible to sleep in the hotel in Vegas that he means he wishes Nick were there like he used to be with a cookery show on the telly and a bottle of wine to help Harry relax when he was too keyed up to sleep.

Harry gets homesick like the rest of the lads, but he manages to keep it in check a bit better than Zayn or Louis. There’s always something new in every city for Harry to enjoy doing, whether it’s something different to eat or drink or see or listen to or buy. He tries not to think too much about home and everything he’s missing when he’s away because he knows how lucky he is, how amazing this all is, but sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes he misses London streets and shows on the telly where people have the right accent and Nick in his flat and on his radio and in his life. 

Sometimes he just really misses Nick and wants to _see_ him. Wants to find as many pictures and interviews and articles about him until the ache in his chest loosens, until he can pretend that Nick’s right there, that Harry could call him up and he’d come right round and they’d go out for a drink or dinner or to do nothing special at all. Harry knows he shouldn’t – Nick has a boyfriend now and Harry’s meant to be getting over him while he’s away – but sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes…

Sometimes he slips, just a little. 

*

They’re halfway through the American leg when they have a night off and Harry makes a concerted effort to rid his hotel room of all of its mini bottles of liquor and search the internet for as many pictures of Nick and David he can find. The pictures come quicker than he’s able to drink all the booze so he winds up not quite pissed yet but still staring at pictures of Nick and his boyfriend holding hands and snogging outside of cafes and shops and restaurants and he can’t make himself look away. 

It’s not Harry’s best plan to date. He can admit that now that it’s playing out. 

He leans back into the pillows shoved up against the headboard and plants his feet on the bed to rest his laptop against his knees. He’s got a fresh drink next to him on the bedside table but he’s ignoring it in favor of obsessing about the picture he’s just found of Nick and David in Waitrose wandering down one of the aisles holding hands. 

Harry just – he can’t stop staring at it. 

It looks so casual, is the thing. Like walking around food shopping with David isn’t even anything new at this point. It’s like they have a _routine_ or something, and Harry can’t push back the hot lick of jealousy the curls through him. That used to be _him_ shopping with Nick. Maybe not quite like that, and never the way Harry always _wanted_ them to be, but they had _something_ like that; the familiarity at least. 

Harry zooms in on the picture. He blows the screen up to four hundred percent and stares at Nick and David’s hands, at the way their fingers curl easily together. He can see Nick’s bracelets and his tattoo and he tries to picture his own hand there instead. Harry thinks his fingers are longer than David’s, definitely thinner, and he imagines it’s his own hand clasped in Nick’s, that it’s him wandering around the shops looking for food to cook on a random Tuesday night.

Harry shoves the laptop away rubs a hand over his face. He should go to bed now. It’s nearly eleven and they’ve got an early start in the morning and the last thing he needs is to do something stupid. Nick’s probably just about to get up and get ready for work and the last thing Harry should be doing is ringing him awake so early in the day – him and David, most likely – and the idea of that alone should have Harry pulling the covers over his head and turning out the light before he does anything stupid. 

Naturally he pulls out his mobile and rings Nick before he can even think about what he’s doing or what he’s going to say. Tonight is apparently the night to make stupid decisions.

Nick answers Harry’s call on the second ring after a bit of fumbling on his end. He sounds sleepy and confused; his voice thick when he says, “Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry squeezes his eyes closed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Nick.”

“You all right?” Nick sounds concerned and why wouldn’t he be; he’s not been woken up by Harry drunkenly calling him in the middle of the night in months. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Tired but good.”

Nick makes a quiet sound deep in his throat. “It’s late by you, innit?”

“It is,” Harry bites his lip. “Sorry for ringing so early over there.” Nick makes a sound of protest but Harry rushes on before he loses his nerve. “You’re not – I mean, I didn’t—“ he huffs out a frustrated breath. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I? Because if I am you can tell me to piss off—“

“Oh my god, shut up, Harry,” Nick laughs quietly. “The only thing you’re interrupting is my last thirty minutes of sleep before I need to wake up for the morning.”

“Shit, sorry,” Harry shakes his hair out and sits up on the edge of the bed. He should let Nick go and he tells him as much. “I didn’t think about the time and that you need to start getting ready for work soon.”

“It’s _fine_ , Harry. It’s good to hear from you, yeah?” Nick sounds genuinely happy and Harry’s face goes warm. “I hardly ever get woken up in the middle of the night by a famous popstar anymore; I’d started to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“Never,” Harry smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’d never.”

The line goes quiet for a second, the moment hanging heavy in the air between them and then Nick clears his throat and asks, “So the tour is going well then? The Sun’s been reporting all sorts of knickers being thrown at the lot of you every time you set foot in a new city. Must be rough, I’d imagine.”

“Bah,” Harry shakes his head. “Bugger the Sun. It’s great, sure, but not nearly as exciting as the papers make it out to be. Not _nearly_ as glamorous as hosting the Radio One breakfast Show, for instance,” Harry tacks on and Nick bursts out laughing, bright and clear and loud. Harry can hear the ring of it over the tinny speaker and it hits him all at once how fiercely he _misses_ Nick. It’s great to hear his voice on the phone but all its doing is reminding Harry just how many miles there are between them. The distance seems insurmountable. 

“God, I really _miss_ you,” Harry says before his brain even registers what’s about to come out of his mouth. His voice has gone soft, and Nick’s laughter dies down until it’s just the last thin edges of it curling into Harry’s ear. 

“Miss you too, Hazza.”

It hurts Harry – and blinding spike of pain in his chest to hear Nick saying that he misses him – and it’s too much all at once. Talking to Nick but not really saying anything, not the things that really matter. Harry’s body’s gone tense, the muscles in his arms and back pulled tight and he grips the mobile in his hand so hard his fingers ache. 

“Do you—“ he starts, voice shaky and rough. “How’s David?” Harry finally manages to get out. Nick doesn’t say anything and the words hang heavy between them. “You’ve just never mentioned him to me, not since the beginning and I was just wondering how he’s doing, how the both of you are doing.”

“He’s...” Nick clears his throat. “He’s good, Harry,” he says quietly. “He’s great.”

Harry’s heart aches. He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows past the lump in his throat. “I’m glad.”

Nick’s quiet for another second and Harry’s glad for it. He needs a minute to get himself together. He thought it would be hard asking Nick about David but he never expected this. He didn’t expect to feel quite so gutted. 

“Harry, I didn’t want to—“

“Are you happy?” Harry interrupts. Nick falls silent and Harry stands up, starts the pace the room back and forth. “That’s all I really care about. I mean, I wish it was—“ _me_ , Harry thinks to himself, _I wish it was me_ \- “different, I wish things were different, but if they can’t be then at least let me know that you’re happy.”

Nick’s quiet for so long Harry thinks he might not answer and if that happens, if Nick’s _not_ happy for some reason then maybe there’s a shot. Maybe Harry still has a chance. “Really happy, yeah,” Nick says quietly. His voice is soft but sincere; Harry knows Nick well enough to know when he’s taking the piss and this definitely isn’t one of those times. 

“Good,” Harry’s voice sounds strangled. He hears a sharp knock at the door connecting his and Louis’ room and he jumps at the sound. “Um, listen, Nick, I’ve got to run. Early start tomorrow and you’ve got to be heading out soon anyway, yeah?” He opens the door to Louis’s disapproving face and steps back to let Louis into his room. 

“Yeah, I’ve got to head out in a bit,” Nick answers. “Thanks for calling, Harry. Don’t – don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

Harry’s eyes burn. He looks away from where Louis is staring at him, his eyes flicking around the room and taking in the empty bottles of booze and the damp spots on Harry’s cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll ring you again soon, Nick,” Harry says and rings off. 

It’s quiet for a moment and Harry tosses his mobile onto the dressing table and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Oh god, why did I do that right now?” 

“Oh, Hazza,” Louis crosses the room and folds Harry into his arms, hugging him tightly before pushing Harry onto the edge of the bed and sitting down next to him. “What happened?”

“Ugh, I don’t know,” Harry shrugs. He glances at Louis but sees only concern in his eyes. Harry tugs at his fingers in his lap and shakes his head. “I had a few drinks and starting mucking around on the internet—“

“Never a good idea,” Louis snorts.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “Anyway, I found some pictures of Nick with David and I just, I don’t know. I missed him. I wanted to talk to him. So I called and everything was fine but then I cocked it all up when I asked him how David was and I just – I don’t even know. I mean, we’re friends, we’ll always be friends, but I can’t stop thinking about why now and what happened and it’s fucking with my head.”

Louis’s hand is warm on the back of Harry’s neck. He digs in with his fingers, kneading the muscles there and Harry lets himself lean into Louis’s side. Maybe he just needs someone to hold him up for a while. 

“You know, you never actually told me what happened with you two,” Louis says cautiously. Harry closes his eyes and nods a little. “I don’t know if you told the others or not—“

“I didn’t,” Harry interrupts. It doesn’t mean much but he doesn’t want Louis to think he’s the only one who doesn’t know the whole story. “I didn’t tell anyone, actually.”

Louis is quiet. “Well if you think it would help you can always tell me.”

Harry thinks about it. “It wouldn’t change anything,” he says quietly. 

“No, but it might help having someone else who knows everything that’s going on.” Harry stays quiet and Louis takes that to mean Harry wants him to ask more questions. Who knows, maybe Harry _does_ want to talk to someone about everything. Maybe it will help.

“So this bloke,” Louis says, “David. Did Nick like _cheat_ on you with him?”

And oh, god, this is horrible. “No!” Harry sits straight up and flails his hands in the air. “ _God_ , no, I’d have chopped his dick off.”

“Oh, all right,” Louis seems a bit happier at the news at least. “I didn’t know; I’d figured you two had been together for a while and that’s what the problem was.”

Harry drops his face into his hands and groans. “Nooooo. God, I wish it were that.”

“Harry,” Louis says gently. He runs his fingers into the back of Harry’s hair and scratches his head. 

“We’d only been together the once,” Harry finally admits. 

Louis’ hand stops moving. “Really? I figured you two had been together for ages and just never told us.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “Just the once, the night after my birthday party. And I mean, it wasn’t even anything, really. Nothing important.”

Louis makes a quiet noise in his throat. “Well I’m assuming you and he snogged a bit at least, yeah?” Harry nods and tucks his head in closer to Louis’s chest. “And did you, I mean, did you fuck him that night?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry raises his head long enough to glare and then puts his head back down. “Don’t be crude.”

“So I guess that’s a no then,” Louis jokes. 

Harry shakes his head and chuckles a little. “We didn’t fuck that night, no. We just…” he sighs. “When we went back to his flat after the party there were a bunch of people drinking and dancing in the living room. So he got us each a drink and said he had a present for me but he’d hidden it away in his bedroom.”

Louis makes a tight sound in his throat. “He’s a slick one, that Grimshaw.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Harry sighs. He fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt and rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “He got me this really nice necklace, like a disc on a long chain and he’d had it engraved, something about me being his favorite popstar and, I don’t know. I saw it and it was like it all hit me at once and I was just so tired of pretending not to be in love with him that I just…stopped.” Louis is quiet, dragging his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I kissed him and he kissed me back and it just, it was great. It was amazing. We fooled around and fell asleep and the next day we woke up and I was late for rehearsals and I kissed him goodbye and then I don’t know. I swear to god I don’t know what happened after that.”

The room is quiet. It’s so quiet Harry can hear the thumping of his heart in his ears and Louis’s quiet breaths next to him. “I’ll kill him,” Louis finally says, his voice is soft and thick. “I will kill that fucking hipster douchebag myself.”

“No,” Harry argues, because really, that’s not why he told him this. “It’s not a big deal. I guess I thought at first it meant something—“

“Because it _does_ , Harry. Things like that _do_ mean something.”

Harry sniffs and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not going to cry, dammit. He’s not. “I guess. I mean I thought it did? It meant something to me, at least, but I guess that’s not how this works.”

Louis is so tense beside him Harry’s afraid he might crack into a thousand pieces if Harry moves, like a pick taken to a block of ice. He winds up patting Louis’s knee, somehow Harry comforting _Louis_ and it’s so insanely backwards Harry giggles a little to himself. 

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, Haz,” Louis says flatly. “Because I’m sitting here plotting Nick Grimshaw’s _death_ so you might want to be a bit more worried. You’ll maybe want to fill Liam in on my plan. He’ll have to be in charge. None of the rest of you lot can be trusted to gather bail money for me if I need it.”

“Aww, Lou,” Harry squeezes Louis’s thigh. Louis covers Harry’s hand with his and Harry thinks that maybe if he has friends like this, maybe things aren’t as bad as he’d thought. “I’d get you bail money.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t,” Louis jokes. He tugs Harry in close and kisses the top of his head. “You and Zayn would take the money and got get some more horrendous tattoos and Niall would just sit in a pub all day and forget he was supposed to come and pick me up. Nope, I need Liam. Liam will come to my rescue.”

“I would totally come to your rescue!” Harry argues. 

Louis stands up and starts a big, elaborate discussion about all the ways and methods he’s going to use to kill Nick and the many reasons why and where and when they’re going to have to bail him out of prison and Harry knows what he’s doing, he’s known Louis for years and he’s his best mate and knows when Louis is using deflection as a way to cover over any sadness any of them are having. 

Louis is bright and loud and funny and he will kill himself to make you laugh just so you can forget what it was you were sad about in the first place and Harry loves him for it. Louis isn’t glossing over the issue; he’s trying to stop Harry from hurting and for the night Harry lets him. He leans back into the cushions on the bed and laughs along with Louis, letting his voice and smile be a temporary bandage for the break in his heart. 

*

They don’t get another free night for a few weeks but when they do Louis makes a plan for them to all go clubbing. 

“I don’t know, Lou,” Harry hedges. Louis ignores him and yanks Harry’s tightest black shirt and a pair of his skinny jeans from his suitcase. 

“Well that’s too bad because the last time we had a day off I found you weeping into your pillow surrounded by an army of tiny empty liquor bottles so guess what: _I’m_ making the plans tonight.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Harry sighs and heads off to the shower. 

The club is dark and hot, the music thumping so loud it makes Harry’s teeth ache. They’ve got a roped off corner in the back of the bar and bottle service for whatever they want and by eleven at night Niall is off chatting up one of the waitresses and Louis and Liam are out dancing drunkenly in the middle of the crowd. 

“You having fun yet?” Harry shouts across the table at Zayn. Zayn looks guiltily up from where he’s texting on his mobile and shrugs. 

“The booze is good.”

“Yeah.” Harry pours himself some more vodka and grabs Zayn’s glass, filling his high enough that it sloshes over the sides. “Come on, do a shot with me.”

Zayn shrugs lazily and picks his glass up, not even waiting for Harry before touching it to his lips and knocking it back. Zayn is always so relaxed he makes Harry feel hyper in comparison. People think that Harry is laid back but Zayn takes zen to an entirely new level. 

Harry drinks his shot. It’s ice cold and stings his throat on the way down but Harry’s had enough he barely feels it. “Let’s go find Liam and Louis and dance.”

Zayn smiles and slides out of the booth, his foot knocking into Harry’s as they make their way to the dance floor. Liam and Louis are in the middle of a crowd waving their hands over their heads and grinning and dancing like fools. Harry barrels into Louis’s back and throws his arms around Louis’s chest, nestling his head into the crook of Louis’s neck and biting his skin. 

“Hey!”

“We came to dance with you lads,” Harry shouts over the thumping bass. Liam is bouncing around, his cheeks flushed and eyes sparking with drink. Zayn leans in close, says something against Harry’s ear and the next thing Harry knows they’re all crowded around him, Louis in front and Liam and Zayn pressed up against Harry’s back, their bodies all moving and swaying to the music. 

Harry doesn’t think. He doesn’t worry about what they look like, a messy tangle of bodies and limbs, curving and swaying in the crowd. He doesn’t think about what it looks like when he leans into Louis’s shoulder, his hands curled tight around Louis’s hips, thumbs brushing up under his shirt to drag over sweat damp skin. 

He doesn’t think about how he reaches back and drags his fingers through Zayn’s hair, pulling his head down to bite against Harry shoulder. Liam’s tattoos are dark under Harry’s fingers and he traces the dips and curls of the letters, pressing his thumb hard into the points of the arrows. Halfway through Niall joins them and they all let out a cheer, dragging him into the middle of their circle and Harry is happy, actually, truly, one hundred percent happy and he’s not thinking about Nick or David or how fucked up things have gotten. 

He’s not thinking about his broken heart or what will happen when they go back home or anything other than the five of them and the feel of Liam’s hands on Harry’s waist, Louis’s lips against Harry’s ear. He doesn’t think of who’s watching or what people will say or what it looks like to anyone other than them. 

For one night he just doesn’t think.

*

Harry’s mobile wakes up him the next day with the sun blaring heavy through the windows of the hotel room. Harry fumbles around the bed looking for where the sound is coming from and finally locates his mobile in the pocket of his jeans which are hanging off the back of the headboard for some reason. His head is pounding. His mouth feels like he installed carpeting in it the night before and when he tries to open his eyes he moans and flops around on the bed instead. 

“Yeah, what,” he doesn’t even check the display to see who’s calling. He actually doesn’t care.

“Harry,” Nick’s voice is tight. Harry sits up straight and then regrets it. Never again will he listen to Louis when Louis makes the plan for the night. 

“Nick, hey.”

“Having a bit of a rough morning?” Nick snaps and Harry is confused. He might not be understanding exactly what’s going on right now but Nick calling him up and being pissed at him was definitely not on Harry’s agenda. 

“Um, yeah,” Harry finally grits out. “Nick, what are you—“

“How’s Louis?” Nick asks snidely, “the insufferable little twat.”

And, what? “What?”

“I saw the pictures from the show you lads chose to put on last night,” Nick’s voice is crude. Harry has never been so confused. “Very nice. The papers are having a right field day with it, considering how you lot were all over each other and quite obviously pissed in a club none of you even had a right to be in except for Tomlinson which, well, clearly he pulled some strings to get what he wanted, yet again, I see.”

“Wait,” Harry blinks slowly. “You’re calling me up to be _mad_ at me about last night?” He feels his eyebrows hit his hairline. “What was so bad about what we did? I mean, I remember a bit of dancing—“

“Oh, is that what they call it in America? Looked more like drunken public shagging to me.”

And now Harry’s mad. It takes a lot, but Nick calling him up to bitch at him about how he danced with his bandmates the night before is apparently a line Harry has. That’s good to know. “We were _dancing_ , Nick; having a bit of fun. And anyway, even if I _were_ drunken shagging, or hell, even _regular_ shagging someone last night I don’t actually see what business it is of yours. It’s _not_ any business of yours.”

“Yeah, you don’t see,” Nick says cryptically. “There’s a _lot_ you don’t see, Harold. I could write a bloody book.”

Harry presses his fingertips to his eyes. He really needs a tea or some parcetemol. Probably both. “Nick, you’re not making any sense.”

Nick seems to calm down a little after that. Harry hears him take a deep breath and then he says, “I just, I don’t think you realize sometimes the things people do to keep you safe, Harry, and it’s frustrating because then you go out and do something so _stupid_ and it just – it’s hard to see.”

Harry shakes his head. He has no idea what Nick is talking about and it’s making his head hurt. His anger fades as quickly as it flared up leaving Harry nothing but achy and tired. “Nick, I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t,” Nick tells him. “Maybe one day you will.”

Harry has no idea what to say about that so he doesn’t say anything. His mobile is buzzing and he’s sure it’s the others calling him to see how he’s doing but Harry ignores them. He feels like Nick is trying to tell him something. He desperately feels like he’s missing an important piece to a puzzle that no one’s told him he’s putting together.

“What does that mean?” Harry asks, but Nick doesn’t answer, just tells him he has to go and that he’ll call Harry soon. 

“Just behave yourself, yeah?” Nick warns one last time before ringing off. “Be careful, Harry.”

Harry has no idea what he’s agreeing to but he promises Nick he will.

*

It takes two days but soon enough Harry finds himself sat on a chair in their management’s office drumming his fingers against his thighs as two of their PR people (Harry’s fairly certain their names are Scott and Steve) gently remind Harry that he’s not exactly old enough to be seen drunkenly dancing in clubs in America, and is that really the kind of image he wants to put out there for their fans? 

“No, you’re right,” Harry apologizes. He scratches the back of his head, his beanie getting shoved around in the process. “It was definitely irresponsible of us all. The lads and I apologize.”

“That’s fine, Harry,” Scott (or Steve says). Harry desperately wishes he were home with his regular PR team. There are always different people around when they’re in America and Harry never knows any of them well enough to judge what they’re thinking of doing. “We’re all just a bit concerned that you’re all going to be headed home in a few days and no one wants this kind of press following you all back during the break you’ve got before the last leg of the tour.”

“Of course,” Harry nods. “That makes sense.”

“So what we’ve decided to do is head it off at the pass,” Steve (or Scott) says. “Nip it in the bud if you will.”

Harry bites down in the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. He’s glad none of the other lads are here; he’d never be able to hold in his laughter if Louis or Niall was sitting next to him poking him in the side the entire time. “All right.”

“What we need you to do is something exceptionally thoughtful and selfless,” Scott says. 

“Like that whole pizza stunt you pulled without telling anyone,” Steve adds.

“Only with a _lot_ more publicity,” Scott’s eyebrows are hitting his hairline and he’s nodding at Harry as if he’s laid out the most brilliant plan ever. 

Harry blinks at Scott. “Um. Then that wouldn’t actually be considered _selfless_ anymore, would it? I mean, if I were doing it on a schedule with a film crew and for good press.”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Steve says smarmily. Harry has to resist the urge to roll his eyes but manages to hold it back. Maybe after today he’ll give acting a go again; he’s doing a fine job from the looks of it right now. “I’ll admit, the plan itself needs a little bit of work but we’ve definitely had some success with damage control concerning your reputation in the past. What we’re looking to do is recreate a good, wholesome image of you that’s palatable to the masses, sort of like what the UK team did when they arranged the matchup of Nick Grimshaw and his partner.”

Harry’s been barely listening, trying to think of a polite way to let them know that a PR stunt where he does good things only to have them filmed to be shown in the weekly tabloids isn’t anything that Harry’s got plans for anytime in the future, when he hears Nick’s name and everything freezes. 

Harry looks between the both of them and blinks slowly. “Excuse me? What did you say about Nick?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Steve continues. Beside him Scott is starting to look nervous but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s not the same of course, comparing a PR move like we’ve got planned for you with the whole thing with Grimshaw and what’s the other one’s name? Donald?”

Harry feels frozen to his seat. His ears are ringing and he has to twist his fingers together to keep his hands steady. “David,” Harry corrects quietly.

“Right, David,” Steve is grinning, apparently he thinks that Harry contributing to the conversation means that he’s agreeing but Scott seems to have picked up on Harry’s face, the clench to his jaw and the fact that Harry seems like he’s about to vibrate right out of his chair. 

Scott stands up and motions for Steve to stop talking. “That’s not the important thing here, Harry. The important thing is setting up a date for you to go out and spread some good, wholesome cheer if you will. We want to make sure the photos follow you from here across the US and all the way back to the UK.”

Harry shakes his head and stands up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “I. No. Sorry, I can’t.”

“Harry—“

“No, I mean, I’m sure I’ll do something decent again at some point?” Harry has no idea what he’s doing. He spins around in a circle shrugging his jacket on and trying to locate the door to get the hell out of there. “But I – sorry. I’m not going to do any sort of planned _event_. You’re going to have to think of something else.”

He can still hear the two of them spluttering behind him as he fumbles with the door handle and bolts from the room.

*

By the time Harry gets back to the hotel he’s even more worked up which didn’t even seem possible, but all the ride back did was give him time to go over the words spinning in circles and echoing around in his head. He doesn’t want to think about it but now that he’s started he can’t seem to stop. 

It almost makes sense now. How Nick just showed up one day with a boyfriend that Harry had heard nothing about. The way Aimee seemed so sad for Harry before he left; how Nick was so eager to talk to Harry the further away from him he got. Even Nick’s cryptic little hints about Harry not understanding what was going on make a bit of sense now, the only thing Harry doesn’t understand is _why_.

Why Nick would do it, why he’d go along with it. Nick knows how much Harry hates anything to do with their PR team so why on _earth_ would _Nick_ or all people agree to do something like this? It doesn’t make any sense. 

Harry takes the lift to their floor and stalks down the hall, bypassing his own room in favor of banging his fist against Louis’s door. Louis answers right away and something on Harry’s face must give him away because Louis’s smile goes from bright to worried in a split second. 

“What happened?”

Harry pushes past him and stomps into the room. He yanks the beanie off his head and drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I’m really, _really_ angry right now, Lou.”

“I can see that,” Louis says gently. “Do you want me to – whoa,” he steps back and holds his hands up when Harry spins around to face him. “Easy, Haz.”

“They’re angry because of the club the other night,” Harry huffs, “which is fine, I get it. But then they started talking about my image and wanted to set me up on some bloody charity mission only with a film crew and a front page headline this time.”

Louis rolls his eyes and sighs. “You’re not going to do it, right?”

“Of course not,” Harry snaps. “It’s fucking stupid.”

“All right,” Louis comes closer and gently squeezes Harry’s arm. “It’s shit; I get that but you’ve never been so angry about things like this before. It’s PR, it’s our job. What is it that’s got you so worked up this time?” and it’s as if someone’s cut his strings the way Harry goes almost limp when he thinks about it all. He slumps into Louis and buries his face in Louis’s neck.

“They had a whole bunch of stuff they wanted me to do but then they mentioned Nick.” Louis goes tense against him, his arm curling tightly around Harry’s waist. “About how it worked so well when they _set Nick up with David_ and I don’t know, I can’t even think. I just. Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think that’s where Nick’s _boyfriend_ came from?”

Louis is quiet. He strokes his hand up and down Harry’s back then walks them over to the edge of the bed and sits them both down. Harry blinks up at him and he’d expected Louis to be angry; he can barely stand Nick to begin with so surely if Harry’s mad at him Louis would jump at the chance to be angry as well. Louis doesn’t look mad, though. If anything he looks a bit sad.

“I don’t know, Harry. I mean, it’s possible,” Louis says gently. “Things like that happen.”

“Well it’s crap,” Harry feels the anger coursing through him still but it’s dulled a little by now making him feel more worn out and tired than anything else. “Nick knows how I feel about stuff like that; if that’s what happened then it’s complete shit.”

Louis _hmm_ s quietly. Harry stares at him and Louis actually looks guilty. “Look, Harry, if Nick did do that I’m not saying it was the right call but all this happened right after your birthday party, yeah? Everything with Nick and that other bloke?” Harry nods and Louis frowns at him. “You _do_ remember the spectacle that your birthday party was, right?”

Harry sighs. “Of course I do.”

Louis taps Harry’s hand and traces up and down the backs of Harry’s fingers with the pad of his thumb. “Listen, sometimes people pull away from other people because they think it’s the right thing to do. I’m not saying it _is_ the right thing to do, but when you have a lot of feelings about someone it’s easy to be convinced that those feelings are irresponsible, or could hurt someone. We don’t know for sure what happened but if someone said something to Nick, maybe strongly _suggested_ he do something because it would benefit you I don’t think he would say no.”

“He could have talked to me about it,” Harry says softly. “He could have told me.”

“Oh, because that would have worked,” Louis quips. “You’d have been a hundred percent agreeable to the whole idea, yeah? Waved the two of them off and wished them well before you traipsed off on your world tour would you have?”

Harry glares. “Of course not.”

“Right,” Louis nods. “I can’t actually believe this is my life right now but I can understand where Nick is coming from. I don’t think you always realize how much people who love you want to protect you. I think if given the choice between dating someone else to protect you or not, Nick would always choose what was best for you.”

It makes a certain bit of sense. Logically, Harry can see that but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I guess.”

Louis pats Harry’s hand one last time then flops back onto the bed and groans dramatically. “God, this is the absolute _worst_.”

“What is?”

“This,” Louis waves his hands weakly in the air. “Me having to defend that twatty DJ of yours,” he says and Harry laughs a little. “No, you don’t understand, Haz. This might actually be the worst day of my _life_ so far. I don’t even think there’s a reason for me to go on after this. I might just end it now; it’ll be more satisfying than living in a world where I agree with Nick bloody Grimshaw.”

“You’re such a dick,” Harry laughs and tosses a pillow at Louis’s face. Louis catches it and throws it back and then they’re rolling around and laughing, each trying to smother the other with a pillow and pull each other’s hair and it’s good. It keeps Harry from thinking for even just a little while. 

*

Harry doesn’t call Nick when he gets home. He doesn’t text him and he doesn’t try and set up plans for them to meet. It’s possibly the first time he’s come back from a trip or a tour since he’s met Nick that he hasn’t seen him straight away and it feels strange, as if he’s not actually home yet but just hovering somewhere in limbo. 

Nick definitely knows Harry’s home; Harry listened to the breakfast show the morning he after got back and Niall even called in to say hello and fill everyone in on how the American dates went but Harry’s still heard nothing. He knows he and Nick didn’t leave off on the best note the last time they spoke but maybe Nick’s waiting for Harry to call first, maybe Nick’s waiting for Harry to make the first move.

Harry wonders if Nick has any actual idea what’s in store for him when Harry _does_ call.

He waits until just after Nick’s show on the third morning home when he physically can’t take not talking to Nick any longer. Harry gives him a little time to finish up at the station but texts him before Nick should be home. Just a quick, _hey, how are you?xx_ which Nick answers almost immediately. 

_Harold! How’s my favorite popstar?_

Harry grins despite himself. _good good. Listen I need to talk to you about something can you stop by mine on your way home today??_

 _Not sure might have plans today_ Nick sends back. 

Harry huffs. _five minutes. I only need five minutes to ask you something and if you need to run then you can_

Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do if Nick actually says no; he can’t imagine Nick will but if there’s one thing Harry’s learned from all this it’s that sometimes Nick does stupid things without talking to Harry about them first. 

_all right I’ll be there soon_ Nick finally answers with and Harry smiles nervously and shoves his mobile in his pocket. 

It doesn’t take long for Nick to get there, he was probably in his car on the way back to his flat when Harry texted him to begin with, but seeing him there standing in Harry’s doorway still feels like a shock. Harry thought he knew how he felt about Nick, he thought he had a pretty firm grasp on it but it’s nothing to what he feels like when he opens the door and finds Nick standing on his steps. 

God, Harry _missed_ him. And he just, he really loves him. It makes all the nerves twisting around in Harry’s stomach settle because he’d been worried about what would happen when he saw Nick again. How he would act, what he would say when he asked Nick about David but seeing him now makes Harry realize that none of the details matter. He loves Nick so much he can hardly breathe. He loves Nick enough to not let him get away again.

“Hi,” Nick’s mouth quirks in a small smile. “You all right?”

“Great, yeah, come in,” Harry steps back and Nick follows him inside, tossing his keys on Harry’s side table and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You want a tea?” Harry asks. “Some coffee maybe?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Nick rocks back on his heels and watches Harry. Harry can feel Nick’s eyes moving over him and he wonders if it’s as strange for Nick as it is for Harry to have gone so long without seeing each other. Harry feels like ha can’t stop staring, like having Nick actually standing in his hall is stealing all the words from his brain and just making everything short-circuit into a loop of _he’s here, he’s here, he’s here…_

“So,” Nick says, “you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Harry nods. He’d had a speech planned about how he thinks he knows what happened but he wants Nick to tell him the truth. He wants to ask Nick how he feels about Harry, if what happened the night of Harry’s birthday meant anything to Nick at all. He’s been practicing it in his head for days, imagining what he would say when he finally got Nick in front of him and the opportunity to finally say whatever he wants. 

“Are you pretending to be in love with David in public so no one thinks that I’m the one who’s in love with you?” is what comes out of Harry’s mouth which is _not_ exactly what he planned on saying but fuck it. It’s out there now. Harry straightens his spine and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Nick falters for a second but then rights himself and answers as smooth as ever. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous, David’s lovely. We’ve known each other for years. We’ve got loads in common and—“

“Because it’s not going to work,” Harry interrupts. “If that’s what you’re doing, it’s not working.” Nick’s mouth snaps closed and his cheeks go pink. “I’m in love with you _anyway_ ,” Harry waves his hands helplessly. “I loved you when we shopped for jumpers in Manchester and I loved you the first time I went to yours for Christmas dinner and I loved you every day after that. I love you _now_ and I can’t – I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that it’s not killing me every time I see you with him.”

Nick takes a step towards him then stops and Harry wants to hit something. His heart is pounding so hard it’s thundering in his ears. His breath is short and shaky. The back of his throat aches and god, Harry will scream if he actually starts to _cry_ in front of Nick but he can’t help it. He’s got to make Nick see, make him understand.

Nick reaches out and touches Harry’s arm and everything in him wants to throw himself at Nick; grab his arms and kiss his mouth but Harry makes himself pull away. He shakes his head. 

“I wanted to protect you,” Nick says thickly. “Your life is so complicated already and things with me would just complicate them even more. I’ve known David for years so it was easy to just…have it look like it was more if it made things easier for you. I just want you to be happy.”

Harry steps into Nick’s space forcing him back and curls his fingers around Nick’s biceps. “You want me to be happy so you dated someone else? Nick, what the hell is wrong with you? All I want to be happy is to be with _you_. I want you to be honest with me and _be_ with me, my _god,_ how much of a stupid fucking twat can you _be_?”

“I’m not being stupid, I’m being realistic,,” Nick insists. “One of us has to be. You think everything will be fine if you just run around doing whatever it is that you want when the world isn’t really _like_ that, Harry. People can be cruel and they can do and say horrible things and I won’t let that happen to you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice, Nick,” Harry squeezes his fingers tighter. Nick’s close enough to the wall that one more step will put his back flat against it. Harry hauls him forward instead, their feet banging together and chests bumping. “If you don’t want to be with me then fine but—“

“My god, and you say _I’m_ stupid?” Nick’s voice breaks. He grabs Harry back, his hands tight around Harry’s waist. “Harry, I’m so in love with you I can’t think straight half the time. You want honesty? I’ve _never_ wanted anyone like I want you. I want to lock you in my flat and not let anyone have any of you ever. I want to go on radio every morning and tell every person listening how bloody stupid in love with you I am. I had to sit here for _months_ pretending to be in love with someone else while you pranced around the world and did who knows what and I wanted to choke every morning I opened the bloody Sun and saw your picture staring back at me. I just—“

“Jesus Christ shut _up_ ,” Harry says because that’s it, he’s officially had enough. He digs his fingers into Nick’s hair and drags him close, crashes their mouths together and Nick gasps against Harry’s lips and slides his hands under the hem of Harry’s shirt, his fingers pressing deep into Harry’s skin. 

It’s been months but Harry’s body remembers how to act around Nick. He crowds him against the wall, his arms bracketing Nick’s head and licks deep into his mouth, swallowing every moan and puff of air that leaves Nick’s lips. 

Harry feels crazy, his muscles are drawn tight and his hands are shaking. He wants every inch of Nick, wants to lay him out and claim him. Wants to make sure everyone knows that Nick’s his, that finally after all this time Nick finally belongs to him. 

“Does he do this to you?” Harry shoves Nick’s jacket off his shoulders, kicking it to the side when it hits the floor. He shoves Nick’s shirts around, his fingers sliding up, dragging over warm skin, his nails scratching patterns into Nick’s flesh. “Does he touch you like this? Like you’re the only thing that matters?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Nick shoves Harry forward, walking him back toward his bedroom. Harry goes willingly, he’s waited months to have Nick again, he’s definitely not going to protest now. “He doesn’t – we didn’t do anything like this,” Nick finally says. “It wasn’t like this with him. I never wanted him like I want you.”

Harry’s skin feels like it’s on fire, his breath coming fast like he can’t touch Nick enough, can’t ever get close enough to him. Nick’s hips rock against his and Harry fumbles with the button of his jeans and shoves his hand inside wrapping his fingers around the thick length of Nick’s cock. Harry kicks the door to his bedroom open and they stumble through it and onto the bed. 

“I don’t want him touching you at all,” Harry presses his fingers into the dip above Nick’s hips. “I don’t want his hands on you,” Harry bites down deep into the side of Nick’s throat, lays his teeth into Nick’s shoulder chewing on the soft cotton of his t-shirt, brain short circuiting and crazy.

It’s like neither of them can touch each other enough; their hands are shaky and bruising, nails scratching, teeth diggings marks and sucking bruises into pale skin. Harry pulls off his shirt and then Nick’s and presses him down into the mattress, necklaces tangling as they move against each other. Nick is rocking up into him and Harry drags Nick’s jeans down and sucks bruises into his skin, pulling at the juncture of Nick’s hip and thigh hard enough the skin goes hot between Harry’s teeth, blood rushing to the surface and mottling pink and red in front of Harry’s eyes. 

“Later I want you to fuck me but for now I’m going to suck you off, all right?” Harry doesn’t want for an answer but figures the way Nick shoves his hips up, fingers circling his dick and pushing it past Harry’s lips is enough. 

Harry licks down the length, hollows his cheeks and opens his throat and takes Nick in as far as he can on the first go. Nick’s other hand digs into Harry’s hair and he tugs at it a little then pats his head and pulls his fingers away. “Do it,” Harry chokes out. “Fuck my mouth, Nick, come on.”

Nick moans, loud and long. Harry glances up through his lashes and sees Nick shaking his head so Harry goes down on him again, picks up Nick’s other hand on puts it on his head so Nick gets the idea that Harry wants this, wants Nick’s cock, fat and hard on his tongue. He wants to taste Nick in the back of his throat and tongue and teeth. Nick finally gives up and rocks his hips, holds Harry’s head and place and starts fucking his mouth with intent, long, slow thrusts that take him almost all the way out before slamming back in. 

Harry can barely stand it, he’s so fucking ready for it. He wants everything Nick will give him, everything he _can_ give him. Harry wants it to be hard enough to hurt, wants to wears the bruises like badges, wants everyone to _know_. He shoves his hand into his own jeans and ruts up into his fist and thinks about Nick finally fucking him, laying him out and holding him down and shoving his cock deep into Harry’s arse. He wants it next, wants it now, and thinking about it has him coming right there in his jeans with Nick’s cock still slick and hot on his tongue.

“Christ, Harry, did you just come—“ Harry nods and grunts, his throat stinging, eyes watering as Nick fucks his mouth harder. Harry takes his hand from his jeans and drags his come slick fingers over Nick’s balls, trailing them down and around to Nick’s arse and then Nick is coming, thick and hot against Harry’s tongue when Harry presses the tip of his finger to Nick’s hole. 

Harry pulls off toward the end, come splashing on the corner of his chin and cheek and he laughs, his throat rough and sore. Nick hauls him up by the arms and kisses him and it goes from dirty and hot to overwhelmingly sweet in a split second. The change is so sudden Harry’s head spins and tears prick the corner of his eyes and he clings to Nick’s arms, kisses him deep and slow, whimpering quietly at the end. 

“I love you,” Harry tells him quietly. His voice is rough and shaky and Nick pulls Harry’s head into his chest and Harry tries to sit up and look him in the eye. “I missed you and I love you Nick. I don’t want to do this anymore; I don’t want to keep pretending.”

“Ssh,” Nick kisses the top of Harry’s head. He drags his fingers through Harry’s hair and Harry is suddenly so _tired_. “Let’s get some rest now, yeah? The rest of it’ll keep until later.”

Harry nods, his head and eyes and limbs already full and heavy with sleep. 

*

Harry’s not sure how long he’s been sleeping when he feels the bed shift and Nick sit up at the edge gathering his clothes from the floor. Harry forces his eyes open and Nick smiles at him softly. His skin is spotted with bruises in the shape of Harry’s mouth. 

“You heading out?”

Nick nods. “Yeah, I’ve got a few things to do today and have to meet Pixie at six,” he drags a hand through his hair making it stand straight up in the front and Harry smiles fondly, his heart swelling deep in his chest. “I’m not like, leaving or anything. We should probably talk about things at some point but—

Harry sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He touches Nick’s arm, trails his fingers down until they tangle with Nick’s. “I guess we’ll talk later or tomorrow or something, yeah?”

“All right,” Nick smiles a little and kisses Harry softly on the mouth. “I just—“

“Need some time,” Harry finishes for him. He nods, he’s not mad. He knows Nick, he’d expected this. “Nick, I get it.”

Nick nods. “All right.” He stand up and gets dressed quickly and Harry tries not to panic, tries to look as calm as he’s pretending to be, but as much as he’d expected this part of him is petrified that this is Nick running, that all the things Harry said don’t really matter, that it’s not going to make a difference to Nick in the long run. 

Something must show on his face because before he leaves Nick turns to look at him one more time and then he’s crossing the room and kissing Harry swiftly, tongue swiping over his lips before touching Harry’s in a sweet kiss. “I do love you, Harry,” Nick says, and Harry nods because he knows Nick does, that’s not really the question anymore. The question is if it will be enough.

*

Harry sets his alarm and wakes up early enough the next morning to listen to the breakfast show from the start. He’d not heard from Nick again the night before but Harry had expected that. He’s not completely worried but he’s not really confident either. Harry’s not sure what he’s expecting listening to Nick on radio to prove, but if anything he’ll be hearing his voice and that’s never a bad thing. 

Christ, Harry’s so gone for him.

The intro music stops and then Nick’s talking, telling everyone good morning and Harry smiles without even thinking about it, his lips curving automatically.

“Good morning, Grimmy,” Harry hears Matt say. There’s a bit of papers rustling, the sound of a low murmur before Nick comes back. “And good morning to you, Matt Fincham.”

“So before we get started today, I hear you’ve got some news,” Matt says and Harry’s heart trips in his chest. He’d been sitting listening to the show on his mobile but as soon as Matt’s done talking Harry hears a buzz and sees a message pop up from Louis on his screen.

_are you listening to nick on radio???_

Harry texts back quickly that he is, still trying to catch whatever Nick and Matt are bantering about. He’d talked to Louis last night after Nick had left. Louis had listened to everything Harry told him and then moaned a bit more about how awful it was that he understood and even kind of agreed with what Nick had done. 

“I highly doubt it’s _news_ , Fincham, but yes, I’ve got some _information_ you might say.” Harry hears Matt make an encouraging sound and then Nick takes a breath. Harry can picture him, his hair messy where the headphones are pushed up onto his head, eyes bright but still crinkled in the corners and droopy with sleep. “I just figured I’d let the single public know that my recent beau David is back on the market, and lads, you’d better move quick because he’s a fantastic catch.”

Harry sucks in a breath and holds it, his chest going tight. He can feel his heart pounding, the blood rushing through his ears. His mobile is blowing up, nearly vibrating off the counter with text after text but he can’t move to answer it. 

“Ahh, Grimmy, that’s too bad,” Matt says. 

“It’s all right, actually. We’ve been mates for years and just decided it’d be better if that’s what we went back to. He’s lovely, though. Anyone would be lucky to have him,” Nick’s quiet for a second before he adds, “Thank you again, David, for everything.”

There’s a bit of a bustle over the microphones and they cut to Tina for the news and then Nick is back and Matt’s still talking to him about his breakup. 

“So are you heartbroken then?” Matt asks. “Should I expect nothing but love songs and manly weeping from this point on?”

Nick laughs. “No, I think you’re safe.”

“And you’re back on the prowl then yourself, yeah?” Fiona pipes up with. Harry glares at his mobile. He will kill her, he actually will. “Everyone hide your sons and daughters?”

Nick laughs quietly. Harry can hear him take a breath and he’s leaning forward to get closer to Nick’s voice. “No, I—“ he clears his throat and says, “My heart’s belonged to someone else for a while now, actually.” Harry literally can’t breathe. “It’s taken me a while to see it but, yeah, he knows who he is and if he wants it it’s all for him.”

Harry’s mobile buzzes with one last text. 

_mate, go get him_ Louis sends. 

Harry grabs his coat.

*

The station is quiet once Harry manages to sneak past the smattering of fans gathered outside the front doors. He’s fairly sure that showing up here before the end of Nick’s show after everything that happened this morning is pretty much going to turn any kind of speculation about the two of them into hard facts but Harry couldn’t care less. People can take all the pictures and write all the articles and make all the telly clips they want, Harry just doesn’t _care_ anymore. 

Nick finishes up his show and Harry’s waiting for him in the hall. Matt smiles and pats Harry on the back as he passes and Tina and Fiona kiss him on the cheek and then Nick is there, smiling and ducking his head, his cheeks flushed warm and pink. 

“I guess you listened to the show this morning,” Nick says. 

Harry nods. “It was a good one, yeah.”

Nick shakes his head. He rubs a hand over his eyes and around to the back of his neck. “Harry, are you sure about this? I mean really, actually, _sure_ \--“

Harry cuts off anything else Nick was planning on saying with a kiss. He touches Nick’s face, cups his jaw and kisses him slowly until Nick relaxes against him, his arms coming up to curl around Harry’s biceps. Harry pulls away after a minute and touches their foreheads together. He loves Nick so, so much.

“Shut up,” Harry says quietly. “You need to stop talking and start being nice to me. Try and make up for all those months I had to see you out with your bloody _boyfriend_.”

“I told you that never meant anything,” Nick rolls his eyes and Harry pouts, raising his chin and sticking his lip out. 

“Don’t care. I still had to see it so you need to make it up to me.”

Nick laughs and Harry can’t help it, he laughs with him. “All right, Harry. I think I can do that.”

Harry bites his lip and looks down. He takes Nick’s hand in his, curls their fingers together and says quietly, “Are _you_ sure about this?”

“Yes,” Nick nods. “Yeah, I am.”

“Because it might take a while to make it up to me,” Harry looks up. He needs to make sure Nick sees him, that he’s looking and watching and really _gets_ it. “It might take, I don’t know, a really long time. You think you’re up for that?”

Nick takes a deep breath and says, “I think so. I want to try at least.”

Harry nods. “All right,” he says and smiles. He tugs Nick’s hand and starts walking them toward the door. 

He looks back at Nick one last time to check, just to be sure, and Nick rolls his eyes a little and grins, his fingers tightening around Harry’s, hands clasped together between them. 

“All right, popstar,” Nick says, and pushes the front door to the building open. “Let’s give this a go, then, yeah?” and Harry nods and follows him out into the bright sunshine.

 

-end-


End file.
